


Dom Orc

by bikestheuniverse



Category: Mistaken (Book), Mistaken - Fandom, Mistaken - Pixie Unger, Pixie Unger - Author
Genre: Blow Jobs, Collars, Dom/sub, F/M, Not a kid fic, Orc's Point of View, Overstimulation, Ownership, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26462389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikestheuniverse/pseuds/bikestheuniverse
Summary: In Mistaken, Bear and Kari don't get their rocks off.I can't see them doing this, but I wanted to see it.In the same circumstances (minus the kid) a orc get's a human female.  He chooses wisely.
Relationships: M!Orc/F!Human, OMC/OFC
Kudos: 10





	Dom Orc

She was wearing a collar when we found her. Tiny little thing, but they were all so small compared to us. Standing next to her I would have had to look down to rest my chin on her head. They came in unusual colours too. This one was creamy pink and her hand looked ridiculous in my ash grey one as I helped her up the stairs. They didn’t have sharp claws or sharp teeth like us. Their top teeth covered their lower ones with no tusks jutting out of their lower jaw. Their eyes showed the whites all the time like they were perpetually afraid. This one had brown eyes and brown hair which seemed to be the norm, even if there were many examples of other colouring.

I made sure she was safely in the transport vehicle with the others and somehow ended up sitting across from her, staring at that collar. It was metal. It could have been a necklace. It almost looked like a necklace held shut with a tiny heart shaped lock molded into the metal rather than a clasp.

It bothered me, that collar. I had to fight not to fixate on it. On what it could mean,

I shifted in my seat and muttered, “We can help take that off when we get to the camp.”

Her eyes went even wider and my dick twitched at her expression. “Oh! I don’t want it off. It’s fine.”

“It’s a bit tight,” the guy sitting next to me commented.

“Tailored,” she countered.

He shrugged. I tried not to stare. Objectively, the man with bright orange hair sitting next to her was more of a curiosity, but my eyes were drawn to the collar.

I was in the med bay when she was being checked over before being released into the general population. She actually argued with the medic to keep it. She lost of course. It was a choking hazard.

She didn’t have the key and was visibly upset when we cut it off. I got to be the one to pin her to the table to keep her from fighting when the medic brought over the bolt cutters. She didn’t fight, she just went limp in my arms. That was so much worse. As she was led away, I picked the collar up off the floor and tucked it in my pocket. It should be easy enough to fix.

I would check on her when I got back from missions. She was getting along alright with the others. I asked and it didn’t seem like she had any close friends. I didn’t like that. I didn’t want her isolated.

It was a two years after I had found her that I hit my quota. Kill fifty rapists, get an introduction to a human woman. It was an introduction only. Women were precious, we did not get to make demands of them. We did not take them for granted. We knew too well what happened when you spent generations selectively breeding for males who produced more sons than daughters. It had taken us an embarrassingly long time to realize that was what we were doing and by the time we did, we had lost the genetic diversity to recover from that.

I asked for her.

She was confused why she was there and I had no idea how to explain.

“You wanted to see me?”

I nodded slowly. “I am lonely and was hoping you would spend time with me.”

“Doing what?” she asked.

I froze. I didn’t know what she expected to hear but I was pretty sure that telling her I wanted to make her cum until she begged me to stop wasn’t it.

“I need to practice my English,” I tried.

“Yours is better than most,” she replied with a smile.

I shrugged, “Not good enough. I don’t understand humans.” That was true enough. I had no idea why she was still single after two years.

She pursed her lips, “I can try. I’m not sure how much I can do. How often do I get to see you?”

It couldn’t be that easy, could it? I pretended to consider that. “It would be easier if we lived in the same house, wouldn’t it?”

She blinked and stared at me. I sagged, “You can say no. You don’t have to spend any time with me if you don’t want.”

“I don’t object,” she hurried to add. “I’m just not sure how that would work.” She thought some more. “I guess you could pick me up at the end of the day and we could talk for a while before lights out.”

I nodded, “I can work with that.”

I had her talk me through how a human household worked. I had her help me pick out furniture from the warehouse where unneeded things were stored. She chose a big bed with a headboard with a cut out pattern that would be perfect for tying her wrists to.

“Is this bed for you or me?” I asked, looking at it rather than her.

She frowned, “For you, of course. It’s your house.” 

“It could be your house too, if you wanted,” I suggested. It had to be a suggestion. I didn’t get to make demands. Not yet, anyway.

She went very still at that. There was a long moment before she replied, “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

I wasn’t allowed to ask anything of her. Time to be nonchalant, “It’s a big house with lots of bedrooms. You could have one, if you wanted.”

There was another long silence. Then, “Could I have the attic room?”

The attic room had huge windows that opened wide and a wrought iron railing to keep you from falling out. It had hardwood floor and exposed rafters. It was cold and damp and drafty. That could all be fixed, but it would take time. 

I ignored all of that in the moment and replied, “If you like.”

“Can I pick out furniture for up there?”

“Of course! It is your room, you can put what you like in it.” I didn’t know what to think when she chose a narrow iron bed, a huge wooden wardrobe that I was sure wouldn’t fit up the spiral staircase and a heavy wooden arm chair that did not look that comfortable.

Why would she even want a chair like that? It wasn’t padded, the arms weren’t that wide. You could easily tie her wrists to them. And the carved feet would keep cuffs from falling off the legs if it was tipped backwards.

Oh.

Fuck.

If I was misreading all of this, I was in so much trouble.

There was also potential for either locking her in the wardrobe or hiding in it and watching her.

Hmm… exposed rafters would be perfect for mounting points for suspension.

“Yes, I think this will all go nicely into your room,” I agreed. Even if I had to take the windows off to winch up the wardrobe, which would be a good excuse to install anchor points. 

She smiled so sweetly up at me when she said thank you that I wanted to thrust my hand between her legs to see exactly how grateful she was. That would have to wait. “I want to make you happy,” I replied, then decided to push my luck, “just like I’m sure you want to make me happy.”

She took my hand and looked up at me, “Oh, I do. I really do want to make you happy.” 

I licked my lips. “We should go home and talk about that,” I suggested.

She nodded.

It was a week before I had worked up the nerve to bring it up. It took that long to figure out how to phrase it in the least threatening way.

I waited until she was seated comfortably. Offered her a drink and a plate of cut fruit. As she was sipping her drink, I started with, “Sometimes I can be a bit … bossy. Not everyone likes that. If it bothers you, you need to say. I don’t want to make you upset.”

She locked eyes on mine for a moment, then set down her cup and cleared her throat. “I, um, don’t mind bossy. As long as you stop when I ask.” I nodded, she continued, “Like if I screamed oatmeal or something, I would want you to stop everything and help me feel safe.”

I swallowed, “Oatmeal?”

She shrugged, “Well, you know, sometimes ‘stop’ doesn’t really work, depending on the situation. But oatmeal is so out of character that it could get your attention.”

“I see.” We sat in silence for a moment. “Is there … any kind of bossy you really can’t stand?”

I was prepared to dance around this for weeks if needed, but it turned out she wasn’t.

“I don’t like things stuck in my eyes or nose and if you want to stick anything in my ass, I need warning and prep.”

I choked on my drink.

“For example,” she added.

I nodded slowly, “That’s where you don’t want to be touched. What if I wanted you to touch me?”

She set down her cup, knelt on the floor then crawled towards me until she was between my knees. “I like touching,” she said.

I reached down and cupped her face. I stroked her cheek with my thumb for a moment, then pressed it to her lips. She obediently opened her mouth and gave it a slow suck. “That’s nice,” I growled. “Can you do better?”

She smiled innocently, “I think your pants are a little too tight. Did I do that?”

I narrowed my eyes, “Yes. Are you going to fix it?”

She opened my pants, then her mouth and stuck out her tongue. I was still cupping her head, so I gathered a fist full of her head and guided her mouth downwards. She sucked as much of me into her mouth as she could, her throat working to try to relax, just as she started to choke, she took the rest of me in hand and began to bob her head. I closed my eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation then watched as she popped off to gasp before swirling her tongue around me and sinking back down. I groaned. She kept working me as I was forced to ask, “In you or on you?”

She did a reasonable attempt to swallow me to the root, her throat clenching around me. She choked when I came and pulled away, swallowing most of it and licking up the rest.

“That’s my good girl,” I breathed. 

She grinned up at me. “At some point we are going to have to talk about what happens when I’m not a good girl.”

“Tell me about that,” seemed like the safest option.

She shrugged noncommittally. “Sometimes I need help holding still. I used to have cuffs and my collar to help with that. I don’t anymore.” She looked sad for a moment and I resolved to find her bracelets to match her necklace. “But I picked a bed with good hand holds. I like to really feel it the next day. And the one after that.”

“What if you get a bit bruised?”

“Well,” she said as she gave me a saucy grin, “that just means you’re doing it right.”

I nodded, then stood up to tuck my dick away.

“Aww,” she said, like I had refused her a treat. 

I caught her gently but firmly by the throat. Her breath caught and she was looking at me with wide eyes. “Oatmeal?” I asked.

“No?”

“Good.” I nodded, “Now, I think you are going to need help holding still.”

###  \----

As I was tying her wrists and her ankles carefully to the bed frame, I explained, “Our clock is based on our resting heart rate so one second is a bit shorter than one of our units. It is close, but there is about 7% variation.” She nodded, slowly. I pointed out the clock standing next to the wardrobe. “Humans divide their time units by 60, we go by tens. Ten fingers, so units of ten make sense.”

“I’m not sure where this is going,” she admitted.

“My math might be a bit off,” it wasn’t I had checked it repeatedly, “But this game is usually played for 2000 … about 30 minutes. If you think that it is too long, we can shorten it before we get started. But it is helpful if I know how long I can play for.”

“What game is it?”

“I’m going to touch you, you are going to hold still.”

She considered this, “I don’t think I could handle being tickled for 30 minutes.”

I smiled, “I’m not going to tickle you, little girl. I’m going to make you cum.”

She snorted, “For thirty minutes?” she asked skeptically.

“Oh yes.”

“Orcs must be different,” she suggested, “I don’t think that’s even possible.”

I raised an eyebrow and gave her an evil grin.

She shook her head, “That isn’t a comment on your performance, more on overstimulation. I would probably cum for about five minutes then spend the rest of the time with you hurting me and I would rather have that go in the other direction.”

“What? I hurt you first and make you cum after?”

“You got it.”

I considered this. “Fifteen minutes and you can always say oatmeal.”

She looked hard at the ceiling, then sighed, “Go for thirty and I’ll let you know if I need to stop.”

I kissed her forehead, “That’s my good girl, you are going to do so well for me.” 

I started by just running my hands over her and asking her distracting questions about her favourite food, what she liked to do for fun. I paid attention to the areas where her answers slowed down and started to focus more on them. She was most distracted when I stroked the insides of her thighs and her breasts and she gasped loudly when I suddenly pinched one of her nipples.

“Oatmeal?” I asked.

She shook her head, no, “That was kinda nice.”

I nodded and didn’t do it again, ghosting my hand between her legs instead. She started to squirm at that. I smiled softly at her, “You do need help to hold still.”

She nodded, and I pinched both nipples this time before stroking her sides. By ten minutes she was panting and really not paying attention to what I was saying. I was aiming for fifteen minutes, but she was new and only made it to twelve before she asked me to let her cum.

I smirked, “You want to cum, do you?”

“Yes! Please! Please let me cum!”

“Are you sure?”

She whined and nodded.

“Well, alright then, if you are sure.” I eased a finger into her and began to stroke, when she had a second one inside, I leaned forward and gave her clit a suck. She squeaked and arched and clamped down on my fingers. I waited precisely a count of fifty then started again. This time she came in moments.

I waited another fifty, but as soon as I twitched, her body writhed beneath my touch. This time when I stopped I watched the clock, her legs were still shaking. “You can say oatmeal any time you want, but I want you to try to make it until the end. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she gasped, “I understand.”

“Good girl,” I smiled at her before I ducked my head to suck another orgasm out of her. This time I kept going as she screamed, until her body pulled hard at her ties and she started whimpering, “no, no.”

I stopped and watched her pant. “No isn’t oatmeal,” I pointed out.

“I … I just … need a minute.”

“Alright,” I said and turned to watch the clock instead of her. Precisely sixty seconds later I pushed in a third finger and thumbed her clit.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

I laughed. “No,” I chided, “Not even me fucking you. We are just playing, Pet. This is just a game, remember.”

She squeezed her eyes tight shut and nodded. I leaned forward and kissed her mouth as I started moving my hand again. Her whole body was shaking now. I trailed little kisses along her jaw, “You are doing so well for me princess, almost done.”

Her cunt was milking my fingers the whole time now, her ab muscles were jumping and her legs were shaking. Her eyes were still squeezed shut and tears were running down her face. “Almost done,” I cooed. “Do you need Oatmeal?”

She didn’t answer but the muscles in her jaw jumped and she shook her head no.

“You said you wanted to feel it the next day, right?”

Her back was almost permanently arched off the bed now, her sheets were soaked, she was gasping and whimpering with every breath, but she still nodded.

I finger fucked her harder in the last minute calmly counting down as she screamed. At zero, I pulled myself away from her and stood back watching. She had made the most interesting noise at the loss of my fingers and her cunt kept fluttering, clenching at nothing after they were gone. I sucked her juices from my fingers, frowning at the slightly coppery tang, and waited for her to open her eyes.

“There you are!” I purred when she did. I yanked the quick release on the ropes and scooped her up. “You did so well for me. Such a good girl!” I wrapped her up in a clean blanket and cradled her in my lap. I wiped the tears from her face, “You are so good to me! We are going to have a snack once you stop shaking OK?”

She nodded and nuzzled into my neck.

“Such a good girl! I know that was hard.”

“My tummy muscles hurt,” she whimpered.

“I bet they do! That was hard work.” I stroked her hair. “Princess? If you don’t like that game, it’s ok to tell me that.”

She laughed, clutching at her sides as she did. “I like that game! But, it’s a once every couple of weeks game. I can’t do that again for a while.”

“Alright,” I agreed, passing her a cup of water. “I’m sure we can find something else to do.”


End file.
